A Nordic King(107)

Oh, and when he smiles, you can see his incisors, so that’s why I think he takes after me.

When it comes to Lars, though he’s curious, he’s also serious. He rarely smiles unless it’s about a fart joke and then he can’t stop laughing. It might also be his laugh that’s the issue, since it’s loud and squeaky and he tends to fart when he’s laughing, which makes everyone else laugh and then he laughs more and anyway, who knew that having boys resulted in a palace filled with farts?

His favorite thing to do is go sailing with his father (I like to stay on shore, thank you very much) and learn other languages. So far, he’s got English, Danish, and Swedish down but he says he wants to learn Italian next. I think it’s because his favorite meal is spaghetti and meatballs…with herring.

So those are the major changes over the last five years. I’m Queen Aurora now (much better than Princess Aurora). Aksel and I were married within a few months of him proposing and by that time I was already pregnant. All that baby-making paid off.

I honestly didn’t think I could be happier, feel this kind of joy, that I do nearly every day. We still have Snarf Snarf too, because that pig is going to live forever, but we also have a huge Newfoundland dog called Pilot, because one animal isn’t enough and Aksel still has a weak spot when it comes to his daughters.

As for Nicklas, the ex-butler, well he did write his book in the end. No Danish publisher wanted to touch him, especially when it was leaked that he was the snitch in the royal palace, but eventually a British publisher picked him up.

The book didn’t go anywhere. He was dropped.

It could have just been about his life as a butler and the real involvement of Aksel in the accident and perhaps people would have believed it.

But he went on and on about sordid, dirty details of the royal family, including a lot about Helena. Like, sexual stuff. Private stuff. It was pure drivel and malicious, with everyone assuming it was made up. All the publishers expected Aksel to sue for libel, so they didn’t want to take the chance. The guy even tried to go the self-publishing route, but the Danish royal family was quick to threaten a lawsuit.

That said, the Danish royal family now consists of just me, Aksel and Stella.

Aksel and Stella’s mother, Queen Liva, died a couple of months ago. Luckily Aksel was able to get closure with her over the years, coming to terms with their relationship. Even though she rarely recognized him, on the days that she did remember, she was kind and remorseful. They never had the mother/son relationship that Aksel wanted, and she never gave him the love he needed, but at least in the end, he was able to salvage the distance that had grown between them.

He gave a stirring speech at her funeral, which was televised across the nation. Every time I see Aksel give a speech in front of his country, I see him transformed into a king. It’s not that he isn’t, it’s just as the years go on, he wears his crown with pride. He’s become someone that people need and more than that, he’s started believing they need him. That he’s worthy of it. He rises to the occasion, born to be a leader and a ruler.

Born to be mine.

I’m so, so lucky that he’s mine. I’m so, so lucky that six years ago he agreed to hire me. And I’m so lucky that I didn’t give up when the going got tough—not on myself, not on the girls, not on him. I didn’t give up on love, even when it was drowning me. Being a queen isn’t an easy role and I have some very pretty and beloved shoes to fill, but I can do it with my king, with my love, at my side.

I have no greater proof of his devotion to me than right now.

We’re currently in an SUV, driving across the dry outback of Queensland, heading closer to the border with South Australia.

Heading to Windorah.

Behind us is another car with Maja, who is still spritely at her age, and Johan at the wheel.

And behind them is Henrik, driving the royal attendants.

Rich, red dust rises up behind our mini convoy, spreading across the desolate brushland.

We’ve been driving forever at this point and my hometown seems to get further and further away.

Of course, we could have flown in a little plane.

And, of course, Aksel didn’t have to drive at all.

But after what happened with his mother, I felt the need to make peace with mine. And even though my mother can’t be located by any means, and I know she’s no longer in Windorah, I figured I need closure in other ways. Just to see the pub, just to see the shack. Just to see the life I used to have and say goodbye to it. No more demons, no more pain. I’m moving on and the guilt can stay behind.

So Aksel insisted on a family trip to Australia and then he insisted on reliving his ex-rally driving days and driving us there. Naturally I’ve been keeping him from going too fast since we have our little princes and princesses in the car and with there being no bends or turns in the road whatsoever, it probably doesn’t feel like racing at all.

But to Aksel, it’s freedom.

Window down, arm outside, the hot air blowing back his hair, Aksel feels free.

And I will soon too.

It’s another three hours until we finally hit the outskirts of town and thank god for that, because everyone has had to go pee and there hasn’t been a single rest station or even tree on the side of the road to do your business behind.

The town is even smaller than I remember. It’s just a road with a few houses scattered about. There’s the petrol station/dairy and a farm and feed store and…the pub.